“Me, too.”
“So your parents are visiting?”
“Yeah. My mom doesn’t know it but she’s getting my house ready for sale.” I close my eyes. “Do you have time to tell me about outrageously expensive Los Angeles real estate? I want something to look forward to.”
CHAPTER 42
FRANKIE
I hold my breath for more than a week, but nothing else happens with Logan’s teammates having spotted his wedding ring. We don’t dwell on it, but he makes sure to tell me every night that nobody has asked about it again, and after a few days, I can tell his tension about it has finally eased.
Meanwhile, Sloane has the time of her life playing real estate agent for me. At first I’m resistant to the idea of looking at the beach communities, but the proximity to the airport for Logan makes a lot of sense, and Santa Monica and Venice are both decent commutes for me—they were just out of my price range before.
They aren’t any longer.
And as I count down the hours to Logan getting on an airplane to spend the All-Star Break with me, I start to dream of a summer spent together, making a house into a home.
CHAPTER 43
LOGAN
As soon as I step on the down escalator, I see Frankie’s huge smile and bouncing blonde waves as she waves at me from our meeting spot at the airport. She's wearing a silky tank top and faded jeans. A loose sweater wrap slides off one shoulder.
“Excuse me,” I murmur, passing people on the left as I stride down the moving stairs, carrying my small suitcase. She’s moving, too, and as soon as I’m clear of the crowd, she hurls herself into my arms.
My heart pounds against my ribs as I spin her around, filling my hands with her warmth, her solid weight, her soft denim-clad hips. It's been a whole fucking month since I've held her like this, and the relief of finally having her in my arms again nearly buckles my knees.
"Let me look at you." I drag in a breath and lean back, only to curve right back over her as I set her down. I can't help myself. Being this close and not touching her feels wrong.
She winds her arms around my neck and beams pure California sunshine, even though the pilot warned us that it's a cool one today. I catch the edge of her sweater, dragging it up to keep her warm. Then I trace my thumb along her jaw, just because I can. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
"I missed you so much," she whispers, and then I'm kissing her, hungrily, because it's been a long month apart and I need to taste her, need to feel her respond to me.
She makes a soft sound against my mouth that goes straight to my cock. When we break apart, we're both breathing hard.
I can't stop touching her. My other hand slides under her sweater, to her hip, my thumb stroking the bare skin where her tank top has ridden up.
Her eyelids flutter and she drags in a deep breath. “We should probably get out of here.” She glances at my carry-on. “Is that all you have?”
“I pack light. Why, are we taking your bicycle home?”
She laughs and pats my chest. “I borrowed Sloane’s car.”
“Does that meanshehas to ride your bike? Because we could rent something.”
"If she wants wheels, her parents have a garage full of options."
Which makes a bit more sense when I see that Sloane's car is a newish Range Rover. "You and your friends are fascinating to me."
She hops into the driver's seat. "Why?"
I climb into the passenger seat, immediately reaching over to rest my hand on her thigh. "This is a really nice car for a girl who says she's going to live in a little bungalow for the next fifteen years."
"That little bungalow cost a million dollars."
"Well, shit." I grin. "Don't worry, our house budget is higher than that."
"What if I like little bungalows?"
